


First Things First

by mynameisnoneya



Series: Daddy Clegane and Family [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Parents, Blow Jobs, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Fatherhood, Fluff, Husbands, Implied Sexual Content, Lawyers, Long-Term Relationship(s), Married Life, Married Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Motherhood, Original Character(s), Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: Sandor Clegane hated life right now.  Once again, he was canceling his Valentine’s Day plans with his eternally tolerant wife, Sansa.  This was the sixth time in their seven-year marriage that he had to do the very same thing, in fact.  It was almost like Sandor was the punch line in some sort of cosmic joke that Cupid had set in motion.  But when Sandor arrives home after a grueling night spent at the office, Sandor decides that maybe he doesn't hate life after all.





	First Things First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mccannswoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mccannswoman/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to all of the hard-working dads in the world who sacrifice their time and energy to provide for their families and the patient, stay-at-home moms who choose to keep the home fires burning for their hubbies in more ways than one.
> 
> Although this story can stand alone, it is meant to read after _I Swear_ and _The Princess and the Very Potent Potion,_ the first two stories in this series.
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

Sandor Clegane hated life right now.

Once again, he was canceling his Valentine’s Day plans with his eternally tolerant wife, Sansa.  This was the sixth time in their seven-year marriage that he had to do the very same thing, in fact.  It was almost like Sandor was the punch line in some sort of cosmic joke that Cupid had set in motion.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa,” Sandor sighed heavily as he hung his head in shame, even though she couldn’t see him over the phone.  “You know that I don’t want to have to work late tonight, but now that the hearing was rescheduled to the end of the week, I just…I need to meet with Brienne to go over a few things to make sure we’re on track, and…”  His voice trailed off as he swallowed hard.

_Fuck, why did Judge Sparrow have to move the hearing date up a week?_

“Oh,” Sansa sighed in return, momentarily allowing the dejection in her voice to spring forth.  Catching herself quickly, though, she shifted gears effortlessly, sliding right into her best cheerful tone of acceptance.  “I see.  Well, first things first, right?”

Hearing the tone of resignation in Sansa’s voice made Sandor’s blood boil.  Instead of spending her night enjoying an upscale, high-brow meal at Highgarden then going to see the latest superhero flick at the movie theater, Sandor’s devoted wife would be spending her Valentine’s Day on their sofa in front of Netflix.  Without one complaint, Sansa had immediately resigned herself to her lonely fate tonight.

How in the hell did he ever manage to garner the affections of such a perpetually patient woman?

“Yeah, sure,” Sandor agreed half-heartedly, wishing that he could bend over and kick his own ass for disappointing Sansa.  “I really am sorry, you know,” he added, hoping that he would figure out a way to make it up to her.

“I know you are,” Sansa reassured him tenderly.

“So, I guess I’ll see you later, then?” Sandor hoped, even though he knew deep-down that Sansa and the kids would be fast asleep by the time he managed to get his giant butt home.

“Maybe,” she sighed, “It depends on how much trouble I get at bed time.  I might be too exhausted.”

Ouch.

Sandor wasn’t sure if she had meant for that comment to sting or not, but it sure as hell did.

Renowned for his quick-wits in the courtroom, Sandor found himself at a total loss as to what to say to his pregnant wife at present.  Ever the consummate lady, his most-likely irritated little bird held her tongue, even though Sandor wouldn’t blame her one bit for being pissed at him, even if she acted as if she wasn’t.

“Yeah, well…OK, then,” he finally groused, unable to mask his frustration at his inability to keep his promise to take her out on the town tonight.

To add insult to injury, who should appear in his office right then and there?

Into his office walked the jolly blonde giant herself, forgoing proper office decorum by entering his without bothering to knock.  Brienne, who prided herself on her ability to rattle Sandor’s cage on any given day of the week, marched directly to the side of his desk.  Dangling a plastic sack from Hotpie’s Deli in the air, she unceremoniously dropped it right on top of Sandor’s brief that he had been working on for the last two hours.

“You’re welcome, Clegane,” Brienne grunted as she rummaged in the bag, unearthing her own take-out meal and proceeding to make her uninvited-self at home in Sandor’s office.

“Tell Brienne I said hello,” Sansa said sweetly.  Apparently, his extraordinarily observant wife must have overheard the bane of his existence.

“No, thanks,” Sandor grumbled.  Balancing his phone against his good ear while glaring at Brienne, who was now flopped into one of Sandor’s guest chairs with her man-sized feet propped up on the corner of his desk, he felt the overwhelming urge to send someone to prison.  Like, right now.

“Love you,” Sansa added, the affection infused in her words.

“Love you, too,” Sandor answered, hanging up and sighing heavily yet again as his colleague horked down her gargantuan meatball sub in a decidedly unladylike fashion.

“Forget where the break room is?” he huffed, too damn hungry to not open up the sack to see what Brienne had bought him to eat.

“Tormund was in there,” she snorted loudly, still chewing on her half-masticated bite of food.

“Right,” Sandor said, rolling his eyes at her while unwrapping his chicken sub.  “Like you two aren’t in love with each other.”

“Speaking of love,” Brienne added as she finally swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while trying to change the subject, “Got any big plans for Valentine’s Day?”

Bloody hell.

The irony of the situation at hand suddenly washed over him.

Sandor was about to spend his Valentine’s Day evening with Brienne Fucking Tarth instead of his lovely, leggy wife.

Yes, folks, it was official.

Sandor Clegane _really_ hated life right now.

 

__________________________

Yup.

Sandor still hated life.

It was almost midnight when Sandor finally pulled into his subdivision.

Fuck, he was exhausted.  He had been exhausted all month, come to think of it.  Back when he had worked for Baratheon, Lannister, and Lannister, Sandor had spent countless nights at the office just like this one, trudging away into the wee hours of the morning as he proved not only to himself but to his superiors that he was one of the best damn guns for hire that a defendant could buy.

Pulling into the garage of his two-story home, Sandor tried to be thankful.  Working for years for a pack of greedy, cut-throat lawyers like the Lannister clan had caused him to lose a part of his soul.  Sick of trying to keep every jack-off client on his caseload from going to prison, Sandor had vowed not only to himself but to his beloved wife that once he had accepted the Federal Prosecutor position a few months ago, he would do everything in his power to make sure that he juggled the duties of his oath not only to his employer but to his family as well.

And manage his duties was exactly what Sandor had managed to do right up until the Bolton case was handed to him.  Fucking hell, a serial killer?  Seriously?  For weeks now, Sandor and the legal team working with him had spent almost every waking minute interviewing witnesses, preparing discovery, tinkering with arguments, and doing anything and everything in their power to ensure that come trial time, Ramsay Bolton would never, _ever_ set foot on free soil again.

Unfortunately, to accomplish that goal, Sandor had almost zero free time to spend with Sansa and the kids.

Slamming the button to shut the garage door behind him, Sandor quietly opened the door leading into the kitchen, noticing immediately that Sansa had left the light on above the stove as well as a note for him on the kitchen counter.  Shirking off his heavy coat and scarf, he hung them both on the hooks by the door.  He toed off his dress shoes and let them lie right there on the tile floor, prepared to accept full responsibility for the muddy water his footwear would assuredly leave behind come morning.

Walking to the counter, Sandor grabbed the folded slip of paper, feeling like a heel for missing Valentine’s Day.  The grumpy attorney hadn’t even managed to kiss his wife once on the very day set aside for lovers.  While Sansa had slept soundly, Sandor had risen at the ass-crack of dawn so he could get to the office in time for a breakfast meeting about the Bolton case.  And by now, his beloved was softly snoring all nestled on her side of the bed, too tired from running after three precocious, often obnoxious kids while their fourth was busy gestating in her belly.

When Sandor unfolded Sansa’s note, however, he wondered if he had been mistaken about that last bit.

_Come up stairs whenever you get home.  I have a surprise for you._

Interesting.

Now, that was _not_ what he had expected.

Quickly glancing at the wall clock above the bar separating the kitchen from the living room, Sandor stuffed the note into the back pocket of his black dress slacks, clicking off the light before hurriedly making his way upstairs.  Gently he pushed open the door to their bedroom, his highly-alert silver eyes widening with shock and awe.

Smack-dab in the middle of their king-size bed was his visibly pregnant wife, naked as the day she was born.  The room was completely dark save for one scented candle she had placed on top of the dresser next to the master bath.

“What in the…” Sandor fumbled, blinking rapidly to try to reroute the blood that had left his brain and had headed southward to his crotch upon spotting his incredibly alluring spouse.

“Surprise,” Sansa whispered playfully, closing the book she had been reading and resting it on her nightstand.  She pushed herself up from her reclined position as Sandor gaped at her like a surprised fish.

“How long have you…the kids…you weren’t worried that they…” he mumbled as he rapidly untied his yellow and green striped neckwear, jerking it from under his collar and tossing it onto the floor.

“They’re not here,” Sansa purred, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, motioning for him to come to her with her index finger.  “And, for the record, Council, I was wearing a nightgown until I heard the garage door.”  With that matter-of-fact statement, she pointed with her thumb over her shoulder at the pink and purple-striped garment draped over the headboard.

_Not here?_

Almost as if she could read her formally worn-out but now horny-as-hell husband’s thoughts, which she probably could since she knew him better than he knew himself, Sansa simply smirked as her uncommonly tall husband all but ran to stand in front of her.  “Mother and Daddy picked up the kids and drove them back to their house.  They’re going to have a sleep over tonight.”

“A sleep over,” Sandor rasped, pulling his lower lip under his teeth as she began to undo his belt buckle.  “I don’t understand.”  Of course, he couldn’t understand.  At the moment, his brain cells weren’t functioning properly, damn it, thanks to the hard-on pressing against his fly.

Giggling slightly at the way Sandor groaned when she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, Sansa lifted her mischievous blue eyes as she shoved said slacks over his hips to free his stiffy.  “I asked Mother to keep the kids for us.”

“Everything I’ve ever said about your mother, I take it all back,” Sandor breathed in a whoosh, his gray eyes widening when his willing wife took his manhood into her dainty hand.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sandor,” she murmured, her voice full of sin and promise.

And when she lowered her head, taking his throbbing cock into her warm, wet mouth, he all but saw stars.

“I…have…I have a card for you in my…fucking _hell_ , woman,” he gurgled, his voice at least an octave lower when she used her other hand to give his sack a healthy squeeze.

“I have one for you, too,” Sansa chuckled at him after she reared back, pulling off his dick with a squishy, wet pop.  “Later, though.”  Suddenly, she hopped to her feet, deftly undoing the buttons of his white dress shirt.  “First things first.”

Hell, yes.

Sandor changed his mind.

He didn’t hate life after all.

**Author's Note:**

> "If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all of my life." - Oscar Wilde


End file.
